


take it easy on me (make it harder to breathe)

by opheliahyde



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliahyde/pseuds/opheliahyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Missing scenes, set between 2.05 & 2.06:</i> Seth can't sleep (and Richie doesn't sleep at night anymore)</p>
            </blockquote>





	take it easy on me (make it harder to breathe)

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt _will ya, will ya come over here and do me violence? / press your ear up to my wrist, the blood is racing some way, going wherever / i'm saying / will ya, will ya stand up tall and be my shelter?_

Most nights, Seth can’t sleep.

Something about the spare room at Eddie’s place, the one with the small queen-sized bed tucked in the corner of the room that none of them ever talked about, but he and Richie knew was for them, no one else ever stayed there but them, that keeps him awake; maybe it’s the faint scent of Richie still clinging to the sheets under the detergent and the fading of time, maybe it’s sleeping alone, limbs stretching out, reaching into too much space.

(Sonja doesn't sleep with him, opting for Eddie's lumpy pull-out after the first night together, patting his face and saying, _sorry, babe, but I'm afraid one night you might suffocate me in your sleep_ with careful eyes and a tight smile—Vanessa used to say the same, but she stayed, curled closer, her long legs winding around his; _she's not Vanessa_ , he hears a voice that sounds an awful lot like Richard in his head; _you're ex-wife's locked up, son_ , he hears Eddie say, but he'd never been good at listening, better at lying)

 _Maybe_ , he thinks, _it’s better this way_.

(at night, he tosses and turns, sleeping for brief passages of time, enough to dream of Richie with fangs, Richie with scales, the sick hungry sounds of him devouring some poor sucker alive, tearing into him with his teeth and feeding until he’s gorged himself; he wakes up shaking, dreams as real and intense as the hallucinations, leaves him tweaking for a fix though it’s been weeks, gets his blood hot, anger coiling through his guts—

his briefs are wet and sticky like he’s still some fifteen-year-old punk kid with a hard-on for his brother, and he swallows the taste of bile back)

 

 

 

 

 

He drives the streets of Houston at night, prowling in his stolen car, looking for something he shouldn’t be looking for.

(he knows where he can find it, ask around enough and it’s easy, so fucking easy he hates how it gets him excited, imagining what the first hit would feel like, his body tingling like it wanted more than just the memory, the rush and come down putting him to sleep when other shit wouldn't)

Seth keeps driving, down long stretches of roads and taking turns he doesn’t know where they lead, snarling himself lost in the city until he stops and picks up his burner from the cup holder.

Richie answers on the second ring.

(it’s a weird feeling to be calling his brother, for them to hold onto cell phones for longer than a day or two, to be far enough away that dialing him up was necessary; it settles wrong in his chest, hooks hard in his guts like want and longing, wishing Richie was in the passenger’s seat where he fucking belonged)

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asks, in lieu of greeting, a sharp worry in his tone like he knows more than he lets on.

Seth rubs a hand down his face, kicks what he wants to say off his tongue. “Do you ever hunt, brother? Wanna come hunting with me?”

 

 

 

 

 

Richie meets him at a low-lit gas station in the seedy part of town, like out of some cheap pulp paperback Seth used to pick up at thrift stores and consume in a few hours on a stake out with Richie—he’s dressed down or dressed like himself, pair of khakis and a white button-down, not the fancy high class suits he’d been strutting around Seth in, like that would impress him (his hands had itch to tear them off of him, rip them down to threads and leave only his brother, bare to his skin).

“Where are we going?” he asks, fitting himself into the passenger’s seat, Seth speeding off when he closes the door; Richie the goddamn culebra buckles up and it makes Seth grin, feels it pinch in his cheeks, _safety first, right, brother?_

Seth doesn’t answer, just drives.

It was easy, like picking out a mark, only this time they weren’t stealing anything. He circles the block three times before he stops, headlights off as he creeps into the alleyway—Seth feels his body start to tremble and sweat, watching from the shadows as the fucker makes his deals, passing the uncooked heroin into eager hands and taking cash in return and he _wants, wants, wants_ , flushing when he feels Richie’s eyes on him.

Seth lifts his index finger off the steering wheel. “Him.”

“Why him?” Richie asks, eyes on Seth’s hands, edging closer to puzzling something out that Seth shouldn’t let him see.

“I thought your kind liked lowlives,” he says, more biting and sharp than he had wanted, but he was wound up, anxious, too close to Richie and too close to another hit—together it was making his head spin, too explosive a combination.

Richie doesn’t rise to the bait, but his jaw jumps under his cheek, his eyes pulling Seth’s to lock together. “What happened to you?” he asks, for the first time, like he hadn’t wondered what Seth had done for three months. Seth wonders if his act had been that good, that he’d been able to bullshit his own brother into thinking everything was all hunky fucking dory, that he wasn’t a desperate mess that needed something to dull the ache of the hole he’d carved out from under Seth’s ribs when he told him to go.

His breath comes in deep pulls, chest rising and falling with the effort. “Nothing, brother. Don’t worry about it. You’ve gotten good at that.”

Richie’s eyes go cold and sharp-edged, like he wants to dig into him and pull out his secrets with bloody hands, like he wants to fight, but he keeps his mouth shut and undoes his seatbelt. “You gonna watch?” he asks, propping the door open, playing Seth’s game.

Seth copies him, both of them easing out of the car, quiet. “Of course I fucking want to watch.”

Richie’s mouth twists over the hood of the car as they ease the doors closed; he doesn’t say anything as he turns to walk across the gravel and into the yellow streetlights. Richie moves like a predator now, more so than before, sleek and smooth, back straight and shoulders up, like a strut but Seth can see the animal just under the surface of his skin, rising up and raising its haunches, ready to pounce. Richie’s clean when he attacks, goes straight for the jugular and digs in with his fangs, an efficiency he’s grown into that he lacked the first time Seth watched him devour someone, a snarling mess that left him bloodied and Seth’s eyes burning as his breath got caught between his lungs.

(he wonders what it makes him that he gets hard now, cock throbbing in his pants watching Richie suck the dealer dry, wondering what it’d feel like if it were him, the phantom ache pulsating at the side of his neck, wanting to feel the pain of Richie’s fangs tearing the scars open again)

Richie leaves the body in his wake, walking back to Seth with bloodstains on his pristine white shirt, fangs still out and face scaled, like a dare, upping the ante, golden eyes watching Seth from behind his glasses, waiting for him to say something smart and nasty, waiting for him to make a move.

“That get your rocks off, brother?”

( _can’t you smell it?_ )

Seth reaches up and runs his fingertips along the ridges in his brow, the hard scales the grow there, moving down the bridge of his nose, past his glasses to his mouth, tracing along the slick shape of his lips, smearing the blood as Richie’s tongue flickers out to taste from his fingertips.

_What the fuck, Richard?_

Seth can’t say it when he’s sucking in a breath, hard and heavy, words lodged at the back of his throat when Richie sinks to his knees and runs his nose up the inseam of his pants, nudging it against the rising bulge at his crotch— _can’t fucking help it_ , not when Richie looks up at him over the edge of his glasses, pretty eyes blue as he remembered, face smoothing over again, fangs receding as he licks his lips, lowering his mouth and Seth feels the damp seep through his pants, his briefs, lick at his cock through the cloth.

“Fuck,” Seth groans, hands finding the back of Richie’s head.

(he hadn’t seen it coming and maybe he should have, spitting out his own venom on the edge of cutting words, sneering and hadn’t thought Richie would repay him by grabbing for his hips and shoving him back against hood of the car, hadn’t thought he’d get to his knees, fucking salivating for his cock)

“This what you want,” Richie says, turning his eyes upwards as he pulls open Seth’s belt and drags down his zipper, black bloodstains where his mouth had been left behind, fingers cool when they reach inside his pants. “Huh, brother? Gonna forgive me if I get on my knees for you?”

“It’s a start.”

 _Take it back, you fucker,_ but he can’t, can’t steal back words when they’ve already been said—he feels how it lingers in the air between them until Richie laughs, heavy and thick, breath ghosting over the head of Seth’s cock, hand gripping him tight.

“You want me to beg, brother?”

Seth’s hand slides from Richie’s hair to his face, cupping around his cheek, his jaw, thumb tracing the swell of Richie’s bottom lip, still bloody. “It’s always so fucking sweet when you beg.”

But Richie doesn’t beg, he takes, swallowing Seth whole, mouth hot and slick and so fucking perfect around his cock—he’d missed this, missed _Richie_ , though he’d never tell him, panting out breaths as his hips flex and jerk, gripping tight to his hair as Richie takes him deep and doesn’t let up, tongue coiling around the base of his cock.

(he comes too quick and too fast, like a hit and run, not long enough to savor the feeling, Richie letting off his cock and putting him back into his briefs, zipping up his pants and looping his belt through the buckle, pulling himself up from his knees and trying to walk away, but Seth grabs for his jaw, kissing hard and fast, tongue running along Richie’s, tasting himself and the metallic tang of blood, licking until all that remains is Richie)

 

 

 

 

 

Seth takes him back to Eddie’s, not back to the gas station like he asks, leads him through the dark apartment around Sonja on the pull-out and back to the spare room.

(he should feel guilty, shameful, sneaking Richie into his bed, whispering desperate and needy, _you can fuck me, want you to fuck me_ in his ear, but it’d always been hard not to feel guilty when it came to Richie, hard to muster any shame)

Richie undresses him slow, peeling him back layer by layer, kissing him between breaths, between buttons and belts, like he was trying to memorize each square inch of skin that gets revealed until Seth is naked and so is he. They move back onto the bed together, Richie crawling over him as Seth slides back against the pillows, his legs opening for Richie to fit between, his cock hard and pressed up against his when Seth tugs their hips together.

“You got anything?” Richie asks, low and thick, hands stroking up and down Seth’s thighs.

Seth yanks the bedside table drawer open, and passes him the small bottle of lube—Richie doesn’t ask him why he has it and Seth doesn’t say, letting the silence take over and pressing skin to skin in hopes it’ll snuff out any secrets between them, Seth spreading open his legs, offering up himself in exchange.

Richie takes him slow, first with his fingers, sliding and curling them inside until Seth’s whining and twisting underneath him, then with his cock, gentle when he pushes inside, Seth biting back moans until Richie covers his mouth with his hand—he fucks him like that, long deep thrusts that shake up Seth’s spine and have him biting into the meat of Richie’s hand.

(time reverses in on itself for a few passing moments and Seth feels all of fifteen, Richie hushing him, holding his hand over his mouth as they fucked, Richie gasping, _gotta keep quiet, fuck Seth, Eddie will hear if you keep making noise like that_ ; it passes, like everything else, and all Seth can think as he digs his blunt edged teeth into Richie’s skin is that he’d wish Richie would do the same to him, _bite him bite him bite him_ as his thrusts hits harder and deeper, wanting to feel his fangs in his neck, in his shoulder, taken in all the ways Richie can take him, but Richie only watches him, his eyes flickering in the dark, something slithering under his skin)

Richie comes inside him, muffling out the sound against Seth’s throat, mouth open but careful with his teeth, hips jerking with quickened thrusts as Seth comes between them, biting down hard enough he breaks skin and sucks on the wound, tasting him hot on his tongue, rolling it in his mouth until Richie’s energy saps and he collapses on Seth, his release sticky between their stomachs and chests.

Richie draws his hand away and Seth watches as it heals, wishing it wouldn’t, wishing Richie would leave with that mark.

Richie coils around him, winds tight like he might not let go, peppering kisses across the edge of his hairline. "Will you sleep now?" Richie asks, running his fingers through Seth's sweat-damp hair.

"Maybe if you stay." It feels petulant and childish, but he’d always needed, more than he thinks Richie needs.

Richie uncoils, pulling away before Seth could turn his eyes on him, knowing him more than anyone and slips from the bed, getting dressed slow and careful, lingering in a way that doesn't feel meticulous. "You know I can't."

Seth wants to ask why not, but they both know there's a million reasons why not, why it would be a bad idea for Richie to be caught there, but he still wants to grab a hold of his wrist and pull, pin him to the mattress and see how long it would take Richie to fight him (he'd win, Seth knows that, but he wants to know how long Richie would let him keep him there, how long Richie would push it to stay before his instincts reared up).

He doesn't do it, and Richie leaves, glancing back before he shuts the door behind him, creeping through the apartment so light footed Seth can't hear him go.

Seth doesn't sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://richiesseth.tumblr.com)!


End file.
